


Seafood Should Not Become See-Food

by Kato (WritersCoven)



Series: The Emetophobic Poodle Series [8]
Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018), Queen (Band)
Genre: A bit of angst sprinkled on top for flavoring, And Freddie's doing everything wrong, Because Kato only writes Gay, Cute gay ending, Emetophobic character, Emotional Roller Coaster, Even though Freddie's really an amazing boyfriend, Fluffy Ending, Food Poisoning, He misses what he had, Hints of past Maylor, I'm not sorry either, It became so much more than that, It was only supposed to be 2 chapters, It's absolute gold, M/M, Mild Innuendos, Poor emetophobic Bri, Roger's kind of a jerk, Roger's lowkey jealous, Sick Bri, Sickfic, What even did this fic become?, emeto
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-19
Updated: 2019-07-19
Packaged: 2020-07-08 18:54:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,525
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19874422
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WritersCoven/pseuds/Kato
Summary: Emetophobic Brian avoids certain foods specifically to avoid being ill. This is the case with seafood, of which he has heard absolutely nothing good. When Roger and Freddie decide to try a local joint at a small town during their America tour, they love it. For Brian, however, this event quickly leads to the worst night of his life.





	1. Something Might Just Be Fishy...

**Author's Note:**

> **Hey! So, this is actually going to be broken up into at least two parts, if not three. I didn't like having a bunch of awkward filler space, and I wasn't fond of a timelapse in one story either, so yeah. Here's the first part.**   
>  **Fair warning, this one does contain a little bit more emeto than my previous fics, in a little more detail. Please read with caution. There shouldn't be any in the first half, but the second will focus on his illness.**
> 
> **Hey, this part of my little note is new! And it's going to be everywhere for a little while: Your beloved Kato was hacked darlings, multiple times! Her stuff was removed, even her pseud deleted, her passwords repeatedly changed. It's been a mess. Someone wants to shut me down! But we aren't going to let that happen, are we darlings? Nope! So,**   
>  **Enjoy the reupload! Kato out! xoxo**

“Where are we?” Brian asked, hesitation hanging in his voice. They were standing outside of a relatively shady restaurant that Brian had never heard of before. Neon lights flashed with the name _Carla’s Crab-N-Cooks_ \- not very trustworthy in Brian’s opinion. He shifted anxiously on his feet as his eyes stared at the flickering sign.

“Food,” Roger responded, already making his way to the door.

“The locals say it’s very good, dear,” Freddie assured, wrapping his arms around Brian’s abdomen and kissing his neck.

“I don’t like this,” was Brian’s muttered reply. He leaned into Freddie’s kiss and closed his eyes while Freddie rubbed his fingers against the taller man’s stomach.

John rolled his eyes. “Get a room, would you?”

“Later, love,” Freddie smirked as he moved away from Brian and approached the door. “Food first.”

Freddie held open the door for John and Brian before following them inside. Roger had already gone in and gotten them a table, and the group made their way to the seats in the very back of the large room, away from any prying eyes. John slid into the booth next to Roger, giving the other side to Freddie and Brian.

The drinks were fairly normal. Coke products and beer, some types of wine, and tea were all options. Being in America, they weren’t about to order any tea (they had enough of that at home). In the end, almost everyone got a beer. Brian, always extremely cautious of what he was putting in his stomach, ordered water with lemon, which he sipped on frequently throughout the evening.

It was the food that had Brian on edge. They had a sushi section available which he successfully managed to convince the rest of the band to avoid, but even the cooked fish didn’t seem entirely trustworthy. Roger got lobster, while everyone else picked some type of fairly cheap fish. Brian had been looking at just about any _other_ option on the menu (the fries looked fairly safe to eat, at least) but a stern look from Freddie and a kick under the table from Roger told him that he would be eating fish.

Brian hadn’t actually had fish in a very long time. There were far too many horror stories about eating anything that came out of the water. He thought that it tasted a little off, but he had always heard that there was something strange about fish. He was on high alert, but a voice in the back of his mind was telling him that it was fine. He also didn’t enjoy the glares he would get for not eating his food.

“Damn,” Roger moaned. “This place is really fucking good.”

The others nodded their heads and muttered their agreements through greedy mouthfuls.

Brian’s ears pricked up. If everyone else was also enjoying it, then he was probably perfectly fine. He took another bite, telling himself that the taste of death spreading in his mouth was all in his head.

“Here, love, try this,” Freddie offered, holding his fork out for Brian. He shook his head. His stomach was beginning to cramp, and he still had half a plate of his own.

The rejection caught Freddie off-guard, and as he swiped the bite from his fork he asked, “Something wrong, love?”

“No,” Brian answered quickly. “I’m fine.” He wasn’t about to tell Freddie that his stomach was writhing with some ornery monster that wanted out. Not in front of Roger and John, at least.

After this fairly tense exchange, the group finished their meals quickly and mostly in silence. As they were leaving, Roger pulled Freddie aside and asked, “What’d you do to him?”

“Nothing, I think, dear,” Freddie replied softly. He stared ahead of him, where Brian was holding his stomach with one protective arm and staring off into the distance. “I might have an idea what’s wrong, though,” he added.

Roger followed his gaze and shook his head. “Don’t they have treatments for things like this? Shock therapy or something?”

Freddie glared. “You could do with a fair bit of therapy yourself, love.”

Freddie walked away then, approaching Brian. Roger called after him, “That was harsh!” but Fred ignored him and kept walking.

“You alright, Bri-love?”

Freddie wrapped an arm around Brian’s back, his fingers pressing into the taller man’s side. He leaned into his poodle and pressed his lips against Brian’s chin.

“My stomach’s bothering me,” Brian admitted, then hastily added, “It’s probably nothing.”

“You’re probably full, love. We should get back to the hotel room.” Dropping his voice to a low and husky whisper, he added, “And hopefully, you’ll have digested enough by the time we get back, you’ll feel up to some _activities_.”

Brian giggled and swayed further into Freddie’s touch. “God, I hope so.”

“Come on, love. Let’s get back, yeah?”

“Alright,” Brian agreed, letting Fred guide him into the vehicle.


	2. Sick and Insufferable

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Freddie's ready for a romantic evening in his and Brian's shared hotel room. Unfortunately for him, Brian's stomach still is not.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Yep, Emeto here! You've been warned! Also some mildly sexual innuendos, but nothing actually happens. Enjoy lovies :)**

Laying down in their shared hotel bed, Fred rolled over on top of Brian and gave his lips a gentle, prolonged kiss as he fanned out Brian’s black curls and played with the wiry strands. Brian slid his hands up Fred’s back, rolling his boyfriend’s shirt up and letting his fingertips stroke the warm skin.

Freddie moved down to Brian’s neck. He did a series of short bites and quick licks of the tongue. When his hands moved down to Brian’s waistband, Brian shook his head and groaned, rolling over onto his side and making Freddie fall back onto the bed next to him. “Not tonight, Fred.”

“Still feeling bad, love?”

“I don’t know what’s wrong,” Brian pouted. He hung his arm over his abdomen and curled up. “I just hope--” he swallowed.

Cramps he could handle. Bloating he could handle. But cramps and bloating together usually led to--

Brian didn’t _want_ to throw up. It was more than a simple dislike for the disgusting action. Brian feared it, loathed it. The helplessness and the loss of control that came with puking were panic-inducing at best.

His stomach felt like a giant knot, lurching around inside of him. Hot, anxious flashes filled him from head-to-toe, but between these bursts he felt chilled.

Freddie wrapped himself around Brian and curled up as well, wrapping his arms around Brian’s stomach and cuddling into him. “Still your stomach?”

“When is it _not_ my stomach?” he sobbed, pulling away. Freddie continued to hold onto him, and Brian cried, “Get off, Fred! Don’t--” He was cut off by a gag.

Panic seized him. He sat up sharply and flung his legs over the side of the bed. Another gag forced its way out and Brian fell back on the bed, slapping a hand to his mouth. He quickly brought his knees up in a fleeting attempt to settle his stomach as hot tears filled his eyes and fell over his cheeks.

“Shh, you’re alright love,” Freddie crooned, stroking Brian’s cheek with his knuckles. When a third gag wrenched its way from his jaws, Freddie took up Brian’s hands in his own and slowly led the man into a sitting position.

“Stop,” he whimpered, hurt and fear bleeding from his eyes. “Sick. Need to-” he retched into his hand- “lay down.”

“No, love. You need to come with me.”

Brian looked ready to argue again, but his stomach gave a painful revolt that sent him heaving over the side of the bed. Freddie quickly thrust a small trash bin under his boyfriend’s mouth, folding back the black curls that he had previously been playing with. Brian coughed roughly, swiped the back of his hand across his face, and sniffled. “‘M sorry, Fred,” he muttered.

Freddie lifted Brian’s hands up from the sides of the bin and slid his hands down Brian’s arms, guiding him up from the bed. “It’s alright, love. Let’s clean up, yeah?”

They walked a few paces, making their way over to the hotel’s bathroom. They had hardly reached the doorway when Brian froze. “Fred,” he whined. _Emergency warning._ Freddie estimated two minutes at best, twenty seconds at worst.

“You’re alright, love,” Freddie assured. He guided Brian over to the toilet bowl, hastily lowering him to his knees. Brian stared up at him-- helpless, scared, and pleading. He wanted Fred to make everything better. Fred always made everything better. _Why wasn’t Fred making it all better this time?_

Freddie knelt down behind Brian. He reached out a comforting hand, but Brian pulled away sharply. “Don’t-” he started, lurching over the bowl to retch. “Don’t touch me.”

“Alright, dear, I won’t. See? I’m not touching you.” Freddie’s hope had been that the statement would calm his boyfriend at least a little bit, but it did nothing. Brian hung onto the porcelain ring, sobbing as he heaved over the bowl.

Freddie felt helpless. There was nothing that he could do without upsetting Brian, and so he had to sit back and watch as his poodle suffered. He wanted to rub tiny circles into his boyfriend’s back and hold his hair out of his face, but Freddie also didn’t want to further upset the young man. Instead, he waited until Brian was done, watching sadly while the man spit into the bowl.

Brian laid his head down on his arms, which were now firmly folded around the hole. His face was flushed with illness, his eyes bloodshot and watery from strain and exhaustion. He coughed again, much weaker now, and turned his head in Freddie’s direction. “Make it stop,” he cried miserably. “Please, make it stop.”

Freddie took a risk. He knew what Brian had said, but he also knew that the poor man looked absolutely miserable. It was heartbreaking to watch. So, carefully, as though Brian might break if he so much as tapped the poodle, Fred replaced his hand on his boyfriend’s back, rubbing small circles. Brian only continued to sob.

Desperate to make Brian feel better, Fred rested his head on his boyfriend’s back, at the base of Brian’s neck, and sighed. “We’ll get through it, love. Deep breaths.”

“Can’t do it, Fred,” he choked, sniffling and sitting up. He scrubbed his face with his hands. “I can’t take it.”

“You don’t have a choice, dear,” Freddie pointed out.

With this, Brian hiccupped as fresh tears spilled out. “I fucking knew we shouldn’t have gone there.”

“No one else is sick, love.” Freddie knew that had Roger or John become ill, their room would have been contacted immediately.

Brian put his head down once more and whined like a wounded animal, deep in the back of his throat. “You’re not helping,” he sobbed.

“Darling, you aren’t _letting_ me.”

Brian shoved himself up harshly, his legs wobbling, and pushed passed Freddie. He had to hold onto the edge of the sink and lean against the wall, but he made his way out of the bathroom. Freddie stayed seated on the floor, watching. After a moment, he called, “Where’re you going, dear?”

“To bed. I’m tired. And sick. And I want to sleep. Can you take the sofa tonight?”

He heard the bed shift with added weight and slowly rose from where he was sitting on the floor. In the doorway to the bathroom, he watched Brian curl up under the covers, burying himself and pulling his knees to his chest. With a sigh, Freddie walked over to him and pulled out the trash bin from earlier. “In case you need it, the bin’s right here,” he said, digging up one of the spare blankets in the hotel closet and moving over to the sofa. “Wake me if you need me.”

He knew that Brian heard him, but he also knew not to expect a response. Brian was stubborn, especially when he was sick. _Especially_ when he was sick and Fred couldn’t help him.

Freddie sincerely hoped that he would wake up in the morning, and Brian would be better. He didn’t think that _he_ was ready to handle the roller coaster that would be coming otherwise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Poor, stubborn Bri. Maybe he'll wake up okay?**   
>  **Honestly, I was hoping to end this in two chapters, but it looks to be a doozy of a story. This was not what I signed up for when I told my friend I would take the prompt, but hey, you gotta listen to the muse when it tells you what the plot is **;) Hope you're all enjoying, and thanks for reading ♥♥****   
>  **Remember to Kudos, Comment, etc. etc, and if there's anything you want to see happen to our little emetophobic poodle, let me know! Kato out loves ♥**


	3. One Hysterical Queen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brian's reached his breaking point. He's scared, ill, and all he wants is his boyfriend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Emeto warning, as per usual darlings ;). Poor, poor Bri. Being stubborn earlier did no good for him now. At least Freddie's there for him.**

Freddie was very happy. Dreams came sweet and easy that night, despite his ailing boyfriend curled up on the bed across from where he was currently dozing. He saw fame and fortune and all the love he could ever need, right before him in his own mind. It was far beyond what words could describe.

Too bad it had to end.

Freddie wasn’t happy at being shaken awake at around midnight. Groggy eyes glared at his assailant as he pulled himself out of the wonderous dreams which had so captivated him. It was too dark in the room to see anything, but Fred already knew that it was his boyfriend. _Who else would be in their hotel room at such an hour?_

“Fred? Freddie, you up? I need you, Fred, please.” There was a sob caught in that last plea which forced Freddie’s attention to a true level of consciousness. Sitting up, he rubbed the final fleeting remainder of sleep from his eyes and yawned.

“What is it, love?” he asked around the tired exhale.

Brian was crying. Freddie didn’t need to see it. He could hear the sniffling, breath-hitching irregularity of crying with every shaky breath from his beloved boyfriend. There was a lamp on the side table next to the sofa, and Freddie quickly groped around in the darkness until he found the switch. Pulling it flooded the room in an aged yellow light, and revealed Brian.

He was truly a mess. His shirt was stained from where he’d been sick, his face was flushed almost completely ashen aside from a warm flush of vibrant crimson, and his hair stuck to the sides of his face and across his forehead where sweat clung to him. Tear stains marked his cheeks like the tiny stripes of a red panda, cutting through the vibrant crimson and fading into his ashen hues. His eyes were entirely bloodshot, and absolutely swimming with fever. Freddie jumped to his feet immediately.

“Come here, love, come here,” he crooned, pulling Brian into him. Brian tried to turn away, tried not to get close in fear of getting his mess all over Freddie, but Fred had no such concerns. He pulled Brian into his chest and coaxed the other man into sitting on the sofa with him, where Brian could shift to a comfortable position. This position, it seemed, was pressing his head into Freddie’s shoulder and continuing to cry while Freddie rubbed soothing patterns across Brian’s arched back.

“What happened, love?” he asked softly, a gentle urge in his voice for Brian to fill him in. He had left the trash bin next to the bed, after all.

Brian shook his head slightly, still nuzzling it into Freddie’s shoulder. “Woke up,” he gasped, his voice as unsteady as the rest of him, “sick. Tried to move, ‘swear.” He paused, swallowed thickly, then sobbed. Freddie scratched what little fingernails he had over Brian’s back, forcing his hand under the soiled shirt to do it.

“You’re alright, love. I’m here. It’s okay.”

“It’s all over the bed,” he mumbled.

Freddie didn’t even flinch. He could handle this, he knew he could. He had to start with the sick boyfriend, and once that was taken care of for the moment he could deal with the bed. Hotel staff might be a little pissed with them come morning, but _so what?_ As far as Fred was concerned, that wasn’t his problem.

“ _Freddie._ ”

The moan pulled Fred from his thoughts instantly. Brian was still sick, he had to remind himself, and now very upset. Mixing heavy emotions with an already uneasy stomach never worked in anyone’s favor, and for poor Brian this was the last thing he needed.

Freddie slowly guided Brian back to his feet, careful not to jostle him too much as they moved. While leading him into the bathroom, he whispered into the black poodle curls, “It’s going to be alright, love. I’m going to take good care of you.”

Brian burped and pulled away from Freddie’s shoulder, shutting his eyes tightly against the world. His chest heaved with painful, panicked breaths. “I can’t do it, Fred. I just can’t. I can’t do it again.”

Freddie, all the while, was lowering him back to their earlier spot in front of the toilet bowl. “You can, love. I’m going to be right here.”

“ _I’m scared._ ” The sob that came out was enough to destroy Freddie’s heart entirely, but he had to keep his cool. Brian needed him to be as strong as he could be in that moment.

Fred sat down directly behind Brian, his knees laid out on the floor on either side of his boyfriend. He lightly forced Brian into a position that hung over the bowl, all the while making sure that his man was as comfortable as possible. Once he had Brian settled, he turned his attention to the shirt. There was no salvaging it, Fred could already tell. The stains ran down the entire front, soaking most of the cloth. He sighed and started to slip it over Brian’s head.

The motion made Brian panic. “What’re you doing?” he asked, his voice tight.

Freddie did the first rational thing that came to mind at midnight. He kissed the back of his poodle’s head, caressed the man’s neck, and replied, “We’ve got to get you out of this shirt, Bri-love.”

“I want a shower,” Brian moaned, leaning against his boyfriend’s chest. The shift in their bodies better served Fred for removing the clothing, for which he was very grateful, but worried him all the same. Earlier in the evening, Brian had been adamant on not wanting any physical contact. The sudden need for constant, close contact could not have been a good sign.

“Ok, we can take one, dear. Are you sure you’re up for it right now?”

Brian leaned over the toilet bowl and burped again, this time ending with a violent retch which brought up absolutely nothing but spit and bile. Freddie doubted he’d really be up for much of anything. “Here, love, I need to go get you another shirt and some bedding. You’re alright, yes?”

Brian didn’t answer. He just leaned his head against the wall of the bathroom and shut his eyes, his arm folded protectively over his stomach.

Freddie tried to make his trip as quick as possible. As he dug out a shirt and some bedding, he focused on the next task at hand. He needed to call for backup. The phone was on the same bedside table as the lamp near the sofa, and on his way to the bathroom Fred paused and dialed the number to Roger and John’s room. He was just about to hang up on it when someone picked up, groggy as could be and pissed to all hell.

“You’d better have a good fucking reason for waking me up,” the voice growled into the phone.

“Roger?” Freddie asked. “Roger, love? Is that you?”

“I’m going to kill you in the morning, Freddie. Good night.”

“Wait, Roger, dear, don’t hang up!” Fred exclaimed. If matters hadn’t been so serious, he might well have made a crack at how it already was morning, but he needed help.

The sigh Roger made was crystal clear even through the phone. “What is it, Fred?”

“Bri’s sick, love. Really, really sick. I need some help in here.”

“I’m sure it’s nothing. You know how he gets.”

“Rog, dear, he’s been violently ill all evening, and now I think he’s got a fever.”

There was a beat of silence on the other end of the line that was followed by an abrupt, “Shit.” Then the line went dead.

Freddie wasn’t sure if Roger was coming or not, but he didn’t have much time to dwell on it. In the bathroom, he could hear Brian beginning to cry again, followed by a noisy heave that Freddie feared may have brought up all of Brian’s intestines. Gathering the bedding and clean clothes, he returned to the bathroom and to his ailing boyfriend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Thanks for reading, loves! I hope you enjoyed ♥♥ Poor, poor Bri**


	4. Smile, Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fred's call for back up seems to have dug up a past that nobody is quite ready to face just yet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Well then XD I _do_ swear, this _was_ just supposed to be a short, cute little Freddie/Brian fic. It's become a whole hell of a lot more than that. Let me know your thoughts loves, I love comments! Enjoy :)**

Freddie was starting to panic, but there was no way he would admit this to Brian. The man’s temperature was up, and his stomach revolted against him far too much for Freddie to get fluids in him. They had no medicine, or anything else that would be of much help, in the hotel room, but Fred couldn’t just leave Brian alone.

He needed to get the temperature down. That should have been priority number one. The temperature was the key to the severity of the symptoms.

Freddie grabbed a small washcloth from the shelf overhanging the toilet and ran it under the sink, dampening it with cool water. He carefully pulled back Brian’s hair and placed the cloth over his sick boyfriend’s neck. Immediately, Brian’s tension seeped away as a small sigh escaped his lips. The water was a good call.

Freddie was about to grab a second one for Brian’s forehead when he heard a light rasping on the hotel door. Kissing the top of his poodle’s curly head, he whispered, ‘I’ve got to get that, love. You’ll be alright for a minute, won’t you?”

Brian nodded, nonverbal. He’d been that way for several minutes, much to Fred’s dismay.

With the consent to leave the room, Freddie quickly paced over to the door and peered out through the small hole overlooking the hallway. When he saw Roger, he felt his heart leaping into his throat. He flung the door open and beamed, relief washing over his face, “Rog, dear, you came!”

“Just how bad is he?” Roger asked, pushing his way into the hotel room. He looked around at the room, noting the mess on the bed with a wrinkle of his nose.

Freddie shook his head. “He stopped talking a few minutes ago. His fever’s high. I need to find a pharmacy that’s open right now and get some supplies.”

“So you’re just going to leave him?” There was an edge to Roger’s voice. He wasn’t ready to be left alone with a sick Brian again just yet.

Freddie nodded. “He’ll be alright for a few minutes, love. And without the stuff, he’s only going to get worse.”

Roger thought about offering to go in Freddie’s place, and it was on the tip of his tongue when he caught a glimpse of Brian out of his peripheral.

_Freddie was doing it wrong._

God bless the man, he was trying so very hard, but it just wasn’t right for Brian.

The poor poodle-man had his head resting against the wall of the hotel bathroom, having now moved the washcloth over to his face, where he was rubbing the cool liquid repeatedly over the warm skin.

“Alright, Fred.”

“Alright what, dear?”

Roger dropped his voice an octave or two. He knew Brian’s reactions well. “I’ll stay with him, you run down and pick up whatever it is you need.”

“Are you sure?” Freddie looked hesitant to leave, but Roger nodded.

“Yes. Go. I can look after him.”

“If you’re sure--” Freddie glanced back into the bathroom. “I should tell him.”

Roger shook his head. “It’ll upset him. Just go. I’ll tell him. It’ll be fine.”

“Alright, alright. I’m going, love. See?” He swung the door open and grabbed his shoes. He cast another worried look in Brian’s direction, then left.

As soon as the door shut, Roger turned to the bathroom and walked in, kneeling in front of Brian. He grabbed the cloth and gently wiped around the man’s mouth and nose. “Want me to draw up a bath for you, Bri?” he asked softly.

Brian’s eyes flickered open, swirling with fevered confusion. “Rog?” he croaked. “What’re you--?” He was too sick and exhausted to form full thoughts, but Roger understood just the same.

“Fred called, Bri. He said you were really sick.”

“Where’s Fred? Want Fred--”

Roger let the cloth drop to the floor and began carding his fingers through Brian’s black curls. “He had to go to the store. He’ll be back.”

“Okay.” Brian’s compliance to this fact was very troublesome.

Roger tried asking his previous question again. “Bri, dear, want me to run you a bath?”

Brian’s eyes fluttered shut, his breath even. Roger was afraid he’d fallen asleep until he heard the hoarse whisper, “That’d be lovely.”

Roger scooted over to the nearby tub in search of the plug. Once he had found it, he quickly placed it into the drain and turned on the water. He knew Brian would want it scalding, but he also knew that Brian needed it to be ice cold. He compromised for a lukewarm temperature. While he was filling the tub, he asked, “How’s your stomach doing?” He needed to gage the situation in full before he tried to get Brian to move.

“‘S okay at at the moment,” was the heavy reply. Brian looked ready to pass out, which further worried Roger. He was better equipped to deal with a lot of things involving Brian, but fainting spells were not in that list.

“Come here, then,” he called, moving to help guide Brian towards the tub. “Get out of those, and get in.”

Brian had no problem pulling off the shirt and setting it aside, but he hesitated at the pants. His hand wavered over the waistline with fevered uncertainty. Roger quelled it in an instant. “It’s not like I haven’t seen everything you’ve got to offer down there, Bri. Go on, take them off so we can get you cleaned up.”

He waited while Brian folded the pants and slipped into the water, then watched as the man folded his arms over the side of the tub and laid his head down. Roger grabbed a clean washcloth and the tiny bottles of soap, moving back to Brian. He slid the washcloth over the other man’s body gently, mindful of any sore spots he might have had from being cramped up on the floor. His eyes were trained on Brian’s face the entire time, watching for any signs of distress. When none came, he moved to the hair.

“I’m sorry,” he apologized, scrubbing shampoo into Brian’s scalp. “I should really have been nicer to you earlier.”

“‘S fine.”

“Lean back for me a moment Bri. Into the water, there you go.” As he spoke, Roger led Brian’s head back into the water and rubbed the soap out of his hair.

“Bath’s nice. Told Fred I wanted a shower earlier.”

“You probably couldn’t have stood up earlier.”

“Just wanted to feel clean.”

“I know, Bri. You’re going to feel clean after this. Head up for me.”

He applied the conditioner over Brian’s curls and once again guided Brian’s head down to rinse out the soap. As he rinsed, he heard the door unlocking. In a low, caring tone, he whispered, “I think Fred’s back.”

“Good. Want Fred.”

“Let’s finish up and get you dressed, then you can relax with Fred, yeah?”

“Okay.”

While Roger helped Brian towel off and get dressed again, Freddie was setting down a few small bags on the table by the lamp, pulling out the various items he had bought. There was soup and a package of crackers, some juice, a bottle of gingerale, and several odd bottles. Fever reducers, stomach settlers, antiemetics. Fred bought the whole store.

“He pester you into a shower?” Freddie asked with a smirk as he walked by the bathroom door. He was changing the soiled bedding, much to Roer’s relief. The last thing he wanted to do was try to cramp a sick and miserable Brian onto the sofa.

“Here, dear, take a seat for a moment while I help Fred with that. You hungry?” A slight head shake. Of course Brian wouldn’t be hungry. He probably wouldn’t eat for a good while after this had all passed. “Thirsty?” Another head shake. That would become a problem really fast, but for the moment Roger wasn’t going to tackle it. “Ok, just lay back. There you go.”

When Roger joined Fred across the room to change the bedding, Freddie whispered low, “You’re really good with him.”

“I’ve had practice,” Roger responded with a shrug.

This caught Freddie by surprise. “You have?”

“Yeah,” Roger laughed. “Back in the days of _Smile_.”

“I’d have never guessed.”

Roger threw a new comforter over the freshly changed sheets and nodded. “I wasn’t the best at it, though. If I had been, things would have ended differently.”

“Doing a better job than I was,” Freddie admitted.

Roger shrugged. “It takes practice. You don’t get much practice with him, though.” Directing his attention to Brian, he chirped, “Okay dear, come on. Let’s get you to bed.”

Freddie stood back and watched as Roger guided Brian over the mattress and under the covers, tucking the man in tightly without restricting him. Once he had Brian settled, he placed the trash bin next to the bed and turned to Freddie. “He wants you. You should probably sleep with him. Do you want me to stay? I can take the sofa.”

“That’d be fantastic, dear,” Fred replied as he crawled into the other side of the bed.

Roger nodded, watching them for a moment. _God, how close he’d been._ The memories coming back were a usually unwelcome tidal wave, but tonight they were of great use to them all. He sighed, moving over to the sofa, where he stretched out and curled onto his side. His eyes remained fixated on the bed, watching as Freddie petted Brian’s hair and rubbed his back.

He was watching love firsthand, he knew. He was glad, at least, that that had come out of everything he had done wrong.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Poor Rog. Maybe that's why he's been such an ass lately? He does, truly, care though. Thanks for reading! ♥ I hope you enjoyed, loves, and don't forget to comment, kudos, all that great stuff!**


	5. How Roger Lost His Smile

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Today we learn how Roger lost his _Smile._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Well, this one is wrapping up! I'm thinking one more chapter, maybe. I was hesitant to add this, but it felt incomplete without it and I know some of you are very curious about the Smile days.**   
>  **While this series isn't expressly a linear, life story, there are certain facts which seem to continue throughout my plots. The hints of a past Maylor was one of them, and today we learn why.**   
>  **Enjoy, lovies**

“Rog, darling, are you awake?” Freddie asked.

Roger sighed. “Fred, you woke me up to drag me over here to help you with Brian. Now, I’m certain whatever you’re waking me up for this time is hardly important.”

“I’m sorry,” Freddie apologized. “There’s just something on my mind.”

Roger glared at the shadowed form of the bed. “What is it, Fred?” he asked, wanting to strangle the man.

“What did you mean, earlier? About practice?”

“Huh?” Roger was confused.

“You said you’ve had practice with Bri, during Smile,” Freddie clarified. “What did you mean, you had practice?”

“You’re bothered by that? It was the past, Fred. Don’t worry about it.”

“But I want to know, Roger, dear.”

Roger sighed, sitting up, and turned on the lamp light. “You want to do this now? Really, Fred?”

“It’s a simple question, darling.”

“It’s a lot more than a simple question, and you know it.”

“Please, just answer it for me. What did you mean?”

“Fuck, Fred,” Roger sighed, “I meant that Bri and I used to go steady. I used to be the one who had to be there for him, to help him.”

Freddie fell silent. He had been expecting that to be the answer, but upon hearing it he felt something new inside of him. It wasn’t quite jealousy, wasn’t quite betrayal or heartbreak. It was something Freddie had never felt before.

“He trusted you, over me,” Freddie finally uttered.

Roger shook his head. “He wanted you, Fred. You just weren’t here.”

“He shut me out, had fits with me, wouldn’t talk to me. He was so stubborn. He wasn’t that way with you at all.”

“Again, I’ve had practice. It takes a lot for Bri to open up to people.”

Freddie’s lip wobbled, but he quickly regained his composure. “What happened, then?” he questioned. “If you two were seeing each other, why did it end?”

“Bri and I just couldn’t seem to agree on something. I wanted him to seek help, go to therapy. I wanted him to stop being held down by a silly fear. He said if I truly cared about him, I would love him for all his faults. I wouldn’t want to change him.”

“The comment you made earlier--?” Freddie was thinking back to outside of the restaurant, when Roger had joked about shock therapy.

Roger nodded. “All I wanted was for him to live a life he could actually enjoy, rather than one he fears constantly. I guess he didn’t see it that way, though.”

“It was kind of you,” Freddie said, shocking both himself and Roger.

“It was?”

He nodded. “It was a kind thought, even though he couldn’t see it as such.”

“He really likes you, Fred,” Roger said quickly, changing the subject. “I can see it. He might even love you.”

“After all this time, I should hope he loves me, darling.”

“I mean it, Freddie. Don’t fuck with him, because he has a heart of glass. Somehow, you’re the only thing he wants to keep close to it. Don’t shatter it on me. I can’t pick up the pieces again.”

“I would never hurt him, darling.”

“I used to say the same thing.”

After that, Roger turned off the light and rolled back over on the sofa. This was the end of their conversation, whether Freddie was ready to end it or not. Laying in the dark, Freddie stared up at the black ceiling and wondered what things must have been like, for Brian and Roger. What they must have felt, what they must have gone through, trying to keep Queen together while they were dealing with all of the baggage that came with a heavy breakup. And then Fred had come in, had swept Brian right off his feet and whisked him away, and there was Roger to watch it all.

_What must that have been like?_

Freddie hoped, selfishly, that he would never have to find out. That was a pain which he was certain he would not be able to bear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Short and angsty, just the way I like it. I hope this answered some Maylor questions for you all. I'll try and update again really, really soon. I'd like to finish this one and get it out of the way. Remember to comment and kudos, and thanks for reading loves ♥**


	6. When We Can All Be Friends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What's this? Is that a Roger kiss? With who?! Read on, loves!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **I don't know what happened here. This series was supposed to be a set of one shots. Now, I have a feeling a lot more of these are going to tie together. I have accidentally fleshed out what should not have been fleshed out. Anyway, enjoy dears, and remember to comment and kudos ♥**

When Roger woke up that morning, the sun was slanting through the opened window curtain and shining warmth across his stomach. He might have enjoyed the lazy, relaxed feeling of the morning if he hadn’t known why he was sleeping on the sofa. Sitting up, he glanced over to the bed, expecting to find Fred and Brian still fast asleep.

The bed, however, was empty.

A nervous worry gripped him. His eyes trailed to the bathroom, but the light was off and the door open. Somewhat more relaxed, Roger stood up and stretched. He walked over to the door, slipped on his shoes, and prepared to go back to his hotel room with John. A note caught his eye, and he paused. Lifting the taped paper from the door and holding it very near to his face, he squinted and read, “Rog, dear, we’ve gone out for breakfast. Bri’s feeling quite well again, thanks to you. I’m sorry if my questions last night troubled you. This was not my intent, I assure you, darling. We’ll be back soon. Please make sure you and Deaks are ready to leave when we are. We’ve an interview to attend. Love, Freddie.”

Roger folded the note and slipped it into his pocket, then left, making sure their hotel room was locked behind him. He padded across the short distance to his and John’s room, digging around in his pocket for the key. He didn’t need it, though. John was quick to fling the door open.

“Where the bloody hell’ve you been?” he demanded, glaring. “I was worried to death, Rog.”

“Sorry, Deak. I was with Fred and Bri last night.”

“Could’ve told me!”

“I didn’t want to wake you, love, so I left a note.”

“You did?”

Roger sighed, stepping into the room. “Yeah, next to your bed. You must not have seen it.”

“I didn’t.”

Roger leaned his head against John’s, dangerously close to John’s lips. “I’m really sorry, love. Next time, I’ll wake you, yeah?”

“Thank you,’ John nodded, pulling Roger in and pressing his lips over Roger’s. When he pulled away, he asked, “What was going on, anyway?”

“Bri had food poisoning, I think,” Roger answered.

“And you went over there to help? Fred couldn’t handle it?”

“Fred was doing it all wrong,” Roger frowned.

At this, John frowned too. “You need to let go, Rog.”

“I know,” he responded, sitting down on the sofa in his own hotel room and pulling on a fresh pair of jeans. “He’s still my friend, though. I still love him.”

“Do you love me?”

“More than the world,” Roger smiled.

***** ***** ***** ***** *****

Freddie had taken Brian out for breakfast, to another local and unheard of restaurant. Brian was particularly wary of this, but Freddie had assured him that the food there was entirely good. “Besides, love,” he smiled, “you can always order pancakes.”

Which was exactly what Brian ordered. Fruit covered, whipped-cream topped, extra syrupy, pancakes which were then overly topped with powdered sugar. Freddie almost laughed when he saw it.

“Are you _trying_ to bomb your stomach?”

“I’m _trying_ to enjoy the first date I’ve had with my boyfriend in a while.”

“Oh, so last night wasn’t a date to you, love?”

“Last night was me puking my guts up for hours. No, it wasn’t a date.”

Freddie smiled, leaned forward, and kissed Brian’s cheek. “Then I hope this is a better date,” he whispered. “You should slow down a bit on that, though. We still don’t know what you had.”

“Bad fish is what I had.”

“No one else got sick.”

“No one else ate the same thing.”

Freddie shook his head, but his grin only widened. _God, did he love that man._

Brian took another bite, eyes locked on Freddie’s as he smiled (an unbearably cute smile, in Freddie’s opinion, with powder stains around his lips), and asked, “What’s today’s plans?”

“An interview, a show, hopefully some sex tonight since I didn’t get any last night.”

“Ask me later,” Brian smirked playfully.

“I’ll be asking all day, love.”

“I know you will.”

“Might as well give in and give it to me right now on this table.”

“Will you settle for a kiss?”

“Afraid of a little public eye, dear?”

“You know I’m not, Fred. C’mere,” Brian laughed, stealing another kiss. When he pulled away, he smiled, “You know, I don’t think I’ve been this happy in a long time.”

“I bet you haven’t,” Freddie acknowledged.

Brian gave him a look. “What you mean, Fred?”

“Rog told me about you two, last night.”

“He did?”

“Yeah,” Freddie nodded.

Brian frowned at his hands. “I’m sorry, Fred.”

“For what? Having a relationship? You couldn’t have known that this would happen.”

“But I didn’t tell you.”

“It wasn’t my business.”

“You mean, you aren’t upset?”

“I have no right to be,” Freddie answered. He meant it. What had happened had happened, it was part of the past. Freddie wasn’t about to let the past ruin such a beautiful future that sat before him, currently covered in powdered sugar, syrup, and fruit stains.

“I love you, so much, Fred,” Brian whispered.

“I love you too, darling,” Freddie whispered right back.

He didn’t know what Roger had meant about not hurting Brian, because Freddie couldn’t see how someone could ever live with hurting such an adorable, fragile thing. He vowed, to himself and all the voices in his head, that he would _never_ hurt Brian.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **This was Brian/Freddie until this story. Now it's Brian/Freddie, Brian/Roger, and Roger/John. Oh my.**   
>  **But, anyway, I hope you all enjoyed. Thank you for sticking with me. Please comment and kudos. I also could use a few more suggestions on where to go with Emetophobe Brian. Especially now that we have all this accidental development ;)**   
>  **Kato out for now loves ♥**

**Author's Note:**

> **Hey, this part of my little note is new! And it's going to be everywhere for a little while: Your beloved Kato was hacked darlings, multiple times! Her stuff was removed, even her pseud deleted, her passwords repeatedly changed. It's been a mess. Someone wants to shut me down! But we aren't going to let that happen, are we darlings? Nope! So,**   
>  **Enjoy the reupload! Kato out! xoxo**


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